It's Always About Her
by Chadini
Summary: Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content. Spoilers for S7. Updated with Ch 8. Starts out slow stick with it. Natalie visits Dr. Tillman.Ernie finds out what Natalie i
1. Chapter 1

It was always about her

Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content. Spoilers for Season 7. My first fic, so please read and review. No flames, please. Feel free to redirect anger elsewhere.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, my life would be very different.

**It was over. **

Well, more like it was supposed to be over. Natalie Davis had promised him that she was finished with what he called her "crusades." She was finished with her miniature scenes and the murders that accompanied them. She had sent her message to the world and she now felt lighter, stronger. Her point had been made; she had let the world know that they were wrong about her. That everyone was wrong about her.

Natalie had always kept her promises to Ernie, her foster father. He was the man that she considered her true father, her savior. She may not have always been honest and truthful with him, but she always tried to make him happy, make him proud of her. But now, that didn't matter anymore. Her obligations to Ernie died when he fired a bullet through his skull for her. _Because of her_. Now, the only thing she could focus on, the only thing driving her to breathe, was the fact that she had to destroy the man that killed Ernie. The man that had devastated her life. That man is Gil Grissom.

_You Were Wrong_.

That was Natalie's message that she thought she had successfully sent to the world through her craft, her crusades, her miniatures. Natalie wanted to make sure the world knew that she was worth keeping. She wanted her father to know he was wrong about her- that giving her away like some used toy, like one of his old broken dolls, all because of _her _was wrong. _It was always about her_. Chloe. Natalie's sister Chloe had always been able to capture all of her father's attentions. As a matter of fact, she had everyone's attention. She was the type of child that adults were enamored by. She had a light about her that drew people to her. Chloe and her father would sing and laugh together. They would put on little skits to entertain their friends and family. It was just adorable to those watching. It was sweet how her father, The Great Rainone, had even named one of his ventriloquist dolls after Chloe. Natalie was not included in outward showing of affection.

_It was always about her_.

Natalie was left out. She was left out of the laughter, the love. That is what disturbed Natalie the most. It was what had made her the angriest and unhinged her down to her core. She could feel the resentment pulse through her veins, pounding through her head. Ever since she was little, Natalie could feel the rage of her perceived injustices surging through her. When some bias would be inflicted upon Natalie the lights in her world would go dim and become muted in color and tone. Her vision would become blurred and she could only watch her problems slow down to a crawl in front of her. For Natalie, it was like watching scrambled cable TV in a hotel room. If she looked hard enough, things looked familiar but also so foreign. In the beginning, Chloe was the catalyst of these "episodes."

It had been a beautiful summer day. It was Natalie's birthday and she was so excited. It was finally going to be her opportunity to shine in her father's eyes. She had spent weeks working on her own act with one of her father's old ventriloquist dummies and she was ready to entertain all of her friends and family. She wanted to take Chloe's place at her father's side. She had practiced her father's signature, a song about a little bisque doll.

"_I've got a pain in my sawdust_

_That's what's the matter with me. _

_Something is wrong with my little insides._

_I'm just as sick as can be…"_

Natalie was in their tree house, rehearsing her song in front of Chloe. She was hoping that her sister would help her to refine her song, to hone it, so it would be perfect. This was going to be her big moment in the sun. But instead, Chloe had ignored her. She was to busy showing off, calling attention to herself, waving and doing a little dance at the entrance to the tree house. Everyone loved her. To Natalie, what happened next was Chloe's fault. It was, in Natalie's eyes, an accident. Something just came over Natalie and she calmly looked at Chloe and then looked down at her father. He looked up at Chloe with such love and pride, a look that he never shared with Natalie. And that was when Natalie gave Chloe a shove, right out of the tree house and onto the pavement. Natalie wanted to hurt Chloe, make her pay for upstaging her, but she didn't mean to kill her. However, when she looked down at Chloe's lifeless body, blood slowly oozing from her head onto the sidewalk, she felt something. She watched as Chloe's head wound was making a crimson pool on the sidewalk and she felt _good_. It felt like she had been holding a breath for far too long and was finally able to let it go.

But once again, _it was all about her_. Natalie watched as her father and all of the partygoers, _her partygoers_, rushed to Chloe's side and once again, people were looking past Natalie, through her. It wasn't fair. It was supposed to be her day and it ended up being all about Chloe. _Again_.

After everyone left the scene; the police and her guests, the coroner took Chloe's body away. The only evidence left of her; of the day's events, was a crimson stain on the sidewalk. Natalie's father was trying desperately to clean the child's blood away, without success. He just kept pouring more and more bleach on the stain, making it larger. He was scrubbing the porous concrete on his hands and knees with straight bleach. The thick smell of iron mixed with the pungent stinging bleach forever burned that afternoon into Natalie's mind. From that point forward, Natalie would forever equate bleach with the cutting pain of rejection and abandonment.

That was the last day she remembered with her father.

This is my first fic so I would appreciate reviews. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content, this story will get a bit dark following Natalie's journey. Spoilers for Season 7 are included, you have been warned.

**Author's Note:** This is my first attempt at a fan fic, so please read and review as suggestions and comments would be appreciated. I have tried to keep as honest to the CSI timeline as possible, however, since it is a little fuzzy, so am I. As you read, you will question Ernie's relationship with Natalie. Is Natalie seeing things that aren't there?

This is written with Natalie's perspective in mind. I am writing this because I am trying to fill in what we have not seen from Natalie.

**Disclaimer:** I did not create nor do I own these characters or anything to do with CSI.

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Chapter 2 

People were always wrong about her, misjudging her. Looking past her, through her. Whenever an incident would happen, whenever Natalie would perceive that she was being dismissed, she would become someone else, _some__**thing**_ else.

Throughout her life, Natalie never had many friends. Her intensity and worldview frightened those around her. She found it difficult to fit in with other children and the adults around her didn't understand anything about her. She didn't speak very often and people took her silence as an admission to ignorance. People saw her as either slow or stupid because she had trouble articulating her thoughts and feelings. Natalie couldn't express herself adequately with words. Her mind was always racing so far ahead; she couldn't put words together in a coherent manner quick enough to catch up to her speeding brain. When she did speak, she sounded dense, confused and awkward. This caused her to be shy and embarrassed to even speak in front of strangers. She could, however, communicate though her art. Natalie had the amazing gift of a photographic memory. She could quickly scan a room and have every minuscule detail committed to memory. From the color of the walls to the last ring of dust from a long-standing object recently moved.

She was able to create drawings that were precise and exact. She loved to sketch in pencil, in black and white, in her sketchbook that she took with her everywhere. It was soothing to her that she could create and control what she saw. She loved the feel of the pencil lead that she could manipulate and smudge on the paper to create perfect shadow. When she was sketching a scene from her memory, she felt powerful and for once, in control.

_**It was all because of her.**_

After Chloe fell from the treehouse, Natalie's father gave her away to the system. The Great Rainone as he liked to call himself, could not even bear to look at Natalie anymore. To him, Natalie represented not only his loss of his favorite daughter, but more striking; Natalie represented everything that was "bad" about being a parent. He could not control Natalie, could not relate to her and worst, he could not love her. She was disobedient; she was quiet, and a little off. Everything that Chloe was not. Things were worse for her than ever. Natalie was forced to retreat more and more into herself, with no one to rely on. Because, she was again, ignored by her father. Again, it was because of Chloe. It was because of the loss of his child by the hands of another, that he eventually gave her away. Without so much as a second look. As far as he was concerned, he had lost two children that day.

Natalie was shuffled from foster home to foster home, unable to make a connection to anyone. She continuously had the same problem - she was alone. The other kids in the group homes would mock her and then she would retreat to that comfortable place that Chloe had introduced her to. If anything, Chloe's accident had shown Natalie that aggression was a quick and effortless way to solve problems.

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The Dell family was a blessing of sorts for the foster care system. They took in children that no other family or institution wanted or could handle. The Cindy and Ernie Dell did what they could for the children, made sure that they were safe, fed, and clothed, which was much more than any of the children had ever received at any of the other homes. The children received medical attention, physical and mental as necessary. When Natalie arrived at the Dell house, she immediately knew that things would be different. For Natalie, it was the childhood that she never had. It was everything that she had hoped and prayed for; she had someone that cared for her. While she didn't always get along with her "brothers and sisters," she did get along with Ernie Dell. She looked up to him, admired him. She loved him.

Ernie was so much more than just her foster father. Natalie was Ernie's special one, his special girl. He was a mentor to her and her only anchor to the world when it started to spin out of control around her. His soothing words and his touch were what kept her grounded. When the world started to close in around her, he always seemed to be there to bring her back down. Ernie seemed to be the only one that understood her. Because of him, she felt like she was worth keeping. It was never about anyone else when they were together.

Growing up in the Dell household, Natalie went to see many doctors to help her with her problems, her "anger." The only therapy that seemed to help her was her special time with Ernie.

They used to spend hours upon hours creating entire city scenes in the basement. Ernie loved his model trains and had an elaborate outrageous setup in the family basement. He had tracks that followed the entire layout of the lower level of the house. Natalie was able to focus all of her energies in creating the scenes with Ernie, from each little store in the imaginary city to the contents of each tiny house. Their city was a microcosm for the real world. Each segment of society was represented down to the most miniscule detail. Rich. Poor. Young. Old. Good. Evil. It was here that Natalie was able to work out her problems. _Just like Ernie. _

Ernie had a vile job at the Manley chicken processing plant. Part of his job was to help massacre the chickens for the world's dinner table. He killed so that his family could live. It was dirty, disgusting work. It was sloppy and smelly. Working in a factory is hot, brutal way to earn a living. Working at a place like that starts to taint your view on life. You become desensitized to not only violence, but also the concept of violence. If you see violence and death every moment of every day, it becomes a normal way to approach the world. That is why Ernie loved his trains and his miniatures. He loved creating his tiny miniature scenes. He would craft almost every piece by hand. He had all sorts of molds to create whatever item he needed to finish a particular setting. Natalie was the only child that came through their house that really understood him and what he was doing. She had a connection with him.

When Ernie had a difficult day at work, the miniature that he created would reflect that feeling. Soon, Natalie, when she was upset, she would work on creating her own miniature scenario as well. It seemed to help her focus. Give her one thought, one task to focus on. She would take out her sketchbook and outline to the finest detail what she wanted to create. If Natalie had a bad day at school, maybe the result would be to draw and then render a bloody beating at a bus stop. Little dolls would be inflicting pain on one another. The detail was breathtaking. Maybe a pedestrian had a little broken leg after being hit by a car. They made sure that the blood was correct in amount and color, that the leg would be twisted to the correct angle to show it was broken. Sometimes some people deserved to be hurt. They deserved to die. That is what Ernie and Natalie decided together.

Trevor was the only other foster child that took a real interest in Ernie's trains and his miniatures. Sure, some of the others would humor him, but the bloody dolls put off most of them and car crashes. Trevor, who was a few years older than Natalie did not have any skills for making any miniature pieces. He enjoyed making models, and liked the trains and mechanical aspects of the scenes, but it was a game to him. He always wanted to add his Spiderman and have him swinging from lampposts. Sometimes Natalie would come home from school only to find that Trevor had set up his action figures in epic battles, Storm troopers vs. G. I. Joe and the like. It would enrage Natalie that he had dared to interfere with what she was creating with Ernie, but she realized that he only wanted to help, or so Ernie told her. He tried to help them, but he was always in the way, Natalie and Ernie usually sent him out for paints or parts, to keep him from contaminating their scenes. Trevor didn't realize that what he was doing didn't fit. He did not see the time that Natalie and Ernie spent together as anything special or important. He just thought it was for fun. He just didn't understand the importance of what they were doing.

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After Natalie graduated high school, Ernie helped her to get her own apartment and try to set up a life for herself. After his wife died, all of the children were gone, except for his son Lionel, and Ernie was left alone. Alone except for Natalie. She was the only one that stayed. She was the only one that still needed him. They would still have their special times together. Creating an outlet for themselves against the indignities of the outside world.

Natalie was never someone that would be considered a "people person" and she had difficulties keeping a regular job. Ernie helped her get a few temporary jobs as part of a cleaning crew and that worked out well for Natalie. She didn't have to talk to anyone and she could just focus on the task in front of her – to make clean the room, or office, or home. The only difficulties she had were if she had to use bleach. She had never been able to get over her reactions to the chemical. When she even smelled the pungent cleaning fluid, she would almost blackout. It would send her back to that day in treehouse, looking down at her bloody sister on the sidewalk. She would slip away and fall into a state of ambiguity. Natalie would start to sweat and shake. Her vision would become blurred and the sounds around her would become muffled, like they were coming from some far away place. By the time that she was able to refocus, Natalie had usually lost chunks of time. She may even be in a completely different place than when the episode began. For Natalie, trying to decipher these episodes was like trying to listen to an old transistor radio without an antenna. She could only make out garbled phrases and pieces that were difficult if not impossible to put together.

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Izzy Delancey was an accident. Natalie didn't believe that was her fault. Things had been going well with her job for him. She found him disgusting, but he followed a routine pattern everyday and she could appreciate and take comfort in that. Natalie was cleaning, trying to do her job, but he wouldn't stop.

"Natalie! How many times have I told you that you need to use bleach on my sweats?" Izzy asked her as he was standing in the kitchen, waving the bleach bottle at her. She had been working for him for a few days, but he was starting to become relentless about the bleach.

Natalie looked at Izzy in horror, watching the bottle sway back and forth as his one finger hooked the handle. Back and forth. Back and forth. That was all she could see and focus on. He had her complete attention.

Izzy came closer to her, with the bleach bottle in his hand. He had now unscrewed the cap and the smell of bleach was starting to waft to Natalie's nostrils, as she stood frozen over the sink. "Don't be afraid of a little bleach. Look it can be your friend," he said, mocking her.

Natalie could feel her heart race. Her ears were filled with the sound of her own heart beating. It was beating so hard, she was sure it was going to bust through her ribcage at any moment. Her breathing became ragged and shallow. Natalie could see Izzy's lips moving, forming silent words. She could feel him taunting her. He was laughing at her.

Izzy put down the bottle of bleach directly next to Natalie and went to the dining room table to eat his breakfast. The same breakfast, two sunny side up eggs and 3 pieces of bacon, that he ate every morning.

Natalie tried to compose herself. She tried to breathe and move away from the bleach. She carefully replaced the cap and tightened it. She was able to then let the breath that she had been holding out. And that is where it began. She had to make him pay.

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Thanks for reading! I appreciate your time and reviews.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary** Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content, this story will get a bit dark following Natalie's journey. Spoilers for Season 7 are included so please, you have been warned about the spoilers and darkness.

**Author's Note** This is my first attempt at a fan fic, so please read and review as suggestions and comments would be greatly appreciated. I have tried to keep as honest to the CSI timeline as possible, however, since it is a little fuzzy, so am I. As you read, you will question Ernie's relationship with Natalie. Is Natalie seeing things that aren't there?

This is written with Natalie's perspective in mind. I am writing this because I am trying to fill in what we have not seen from Natalie. In this chapter, Natalie finishes the first miniature.

**Disclaimer** I did not create nor do I own these characters or anything to do with CSI.

Chapter 3 

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Natalie didn't know where else to go after she left her shift at Izzy Delancy's house. He had tainted her, taunting her around his kitchen with an uncapped bottle of bleach. He was waving the bottle at her and all she could do was focus on not completely losing her mind. She watched his hands with such an intense and complete concentration, trying to will that none of the bleach would spill out of the bottle. Even worse, if any of the bleach had spilled out, Natalie wanted to be damn sure she knew where it was so she could avoid it.

Watching the handle of the bleach bottle sway dangerously on Izzy's one hooked finger, all of her old feelings were brought up again, and she could feel herself starting to "phase out." The sounds around her; Izzy's gruff voice, the whooshing and clanking of the dishwasher, the faint crying of his child, it all started to become muffled, sounding heavy and far away. Natalie saw herself as a little girl again, looking down from her tree house, staring at the pool of blood forming around her sister Chloe's head on the sidewalk below. Natalie started to wonder what Izzy's head would look like if it were smashed in as well. She was imagining what it would be like if it were Izzy lying on that sidewalk and not Chloe. She was losing focus, she could barely breathe. She knew she had to get out of there soon before she was completely gone. She had no idea how long the torture went on for. It felt like hours, but who knows, it could have been seconds. She finished the rest of her work without a word, and then left to do the only thing that she could. She went to see the only person that could make her feel alive again.

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Natalie showed up on Ernie's doorstep as an absolute disaster in every sense of the word. She was mumbling incoherently and sobbing silently. When Ernie opened the door, she came straight in passing by his as though he were not even there. She was waving her arms in the air and was pacing around the room like a trapped animal, all the while shaking her head from side to side, like she was trying to get something out of it. Natalie was shivering down to the bone, like she had walked soaking wet in to a freezer.

"Honey, what's wrong? Did someone hurt you?" Ernie asked with his voice straining with concern. His eyes followed her closely, following each and every jagged movement, every unsure step.

Ernie had seen her worked up before, but it had been a long time since he had seen it, and it had been years since he had seen it this bad. Ernie took Natalie into his arms and held her tightly, effectively stopping her rapid pacing. He started rubbing the small of her back in tiny soothing circles, trying to calm her down. After a few moments, his movements were starting to work and she was no longer sobbing, then she did the one thing that showed him that she was really, really gone…she was just humming into the crook of his neck as she held on to him as if her life depended on it. She started softly singing that song, the song about the little bisque doll.

" _When all of a sudden the shopkeeper heard _

_A scream that rang out through the store,_

_And this is the plaint of the little bisque doll _

That caused such an awful uproar"

Ernie pulled away from Natalie and pulled her chin up so he could look into her eyes to see if he could get a read on _where_ she was. Unfortunately, all he could tell was that she was still far away, just looking at some point or place that no one else could see but her, tilting her head as if she were trying to listen to a voice that only she could hear. Ernie took her hand and led her to sit down on the couch. He situated her there and rubbed his hand up and down her arm, telling her that she would be fine and he was going to make her some cocoa.

"Sweetie, I will make you feel better. You are my special one, right?" Ernie asked her, hoping for some sort of recognition from her. When he was sure that she was not going to go anywhere, Ernie went into the kitchen to make a cup of hot cocoa for his special girl. It didn't matter if it were freezing cold or a hundred degrees; Natalie always seemed to respond to a hot cup of cocoa.

By the time that Ernie returned from the kitchen with Natalie's cocoa, she had still not moved even an inch from the place that he had left her. Ernie wasn't even sure if she had blinked while he was gone.

Ernie bent down in front of Natalie and gently placed his hands on her knees, looking her in the eyes, trying to decide his next move. He offered her the steaming cup of cocoa and she tentatively took it from Ernie's hands into her own. He tenderly rubbed her knees as he leaned in close to her to blow on the cocoa. Ernie moved his head in closer, close enough that he could kiss her softly on the lips. He then moved up to kiss her on her forehead lightly.

These gestures seemed to bring her around a bit. Natalie looked around the room, blinking, as if to clear a fog out of her head that was slowly lifting. "How did I…What…" she whispered, as she looked around the room and then down at her cocoa, shaking her head as she took a sip.

"I dunno honey. You just showed up here upset." Ernie answered her as he was rising to his feet, never breaking eye contact with Natalie. "Did that pervert rock star do something to you?" Ernie asked as he started to feel rage boil in his blood.

"He…he…_bleach_" was all Natalie could utter so silently that Ernie was not even sure if she even spoke. "I don't know what to do…" Natalie trailed off as she started to get up and pace across the length of the room. She was starting to fade away again until something across the room caught her eye. Natalie immediately stopped pacing and walked over to look at the miniature scene that Ernie had spread out on the dining room table. It looked like he was creating a scene from the Manley Chicken Processing Plant. There were tiny barrels and industrial looking equipment miniature molds and parts all over the table.

Ernie had everything spread out in an orderly fashion, all lined up on the table, on top of newspapers. There were paints and brushes and all sorts of deadly, destructive scenes in progress. To say that Natalie was intrigued would be an understatement. Ever since she was a little girl, she and Ernie would create miniature scenes to go with his trains, in essence, acting out all their anger with those that had treated them unjustly throughout their lives. But those scenes had been in context of the train setup. They had never actually created a scene from "the real world." Everything had been created from their warped minds, a caricature of their world.

Ernie took in Natalie's interest with earnest. He watched as she sat down, making herself comfortable at the table and how she started to mix the paints together to create the perfect steel gray to paint a steam pipe for his factory scene. It was at this point that Ernie realized how to help her deal with her problem with Izzy Delancy, this could be the perfect way for Natalie to manage her feelings of rage and lack of control.

"Sweetie," Ernie nudged at Natalie, trying to get her attention away from the model. She was like a little child with a shiny new toy, completely engrossed in the task at hand…making the steam pipe as realistic as possible. She was envisioning the piece of pipe directly above the door to the slaughterhouse floor. Ernie had taken her there once so she could see what he did everyday and she had never forgotten that place. She was envisioning the hues of rust that she would work on next…

"Honey," he tried again, "I have an idea," he continued. This time, he had Natalie's attention, as she looked up at him. "Listen, let's work on a new project together, we can make a different kind of model."

Natalie curiously looked at the miniature pieces before her and asked, "Can we make a model of Izzy's house?"

"Of course, we can. We can make whatever you want. You are of course my special girl aren't you?"

This brought a huge smile to Natalie's face. She immediately started thinking about what area of the house they could make. Better yet, what Izzy would look like and what would she and Ernie do to him. What sort of pain would they inflict upon him?

For the next three weeks and four days, Ernie and Natalie worked on creating a perfect 1/2-inch scale model of Izzy Delancy's kitchen and dining area. Each day after work, Natalie would rush home and sketch out every detail of Izzy's home. She would draw in perfect detail every pot, every pan, the contents of every drawer and cabinet. She would then take a nap until Ernie got home from work, dreaming about the day the miniature would be finished. She would then head over to his house and spend the rest of the evening there. They created each piece of the scene, Ernie showing her how to cast and create molds for the various utensils. It was perfect.

They had spirited discussions about how to do Izzy in and then what to do with the model when it was complete. They finally decided that Izzy should be killed by a whack in the back of the head by the marble rolling pin; it had a very _Clue_ feeling to it that had made Natalie chuckle.

Both Natalie and Ernie decided that as soon as the model was finished, Natalie should quit her job. Ernie had another job for Natalie all set up with a woman that used to for at Manley, Penny Gardner, so it would be a perfect time for Natalie to move on.

Finally, there was one last piece to finish the miniature scene. They just had to paint the blood on Izzy and the model would be complete. This was always their favorite part, painting the blood on the scene, and they always did it together. It was a little father/daughter bonding for the both of them. It was what separated their creations from others in the hobby shops that they went to. It made their models _real_.

Natalie, however, had another idea about the finishing touches and said that she wanted to take the model home and finish it on her own. Ernie was disappointed, but as long as his special girl was happy, he didn't mind.

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**Thanks for reading! If you like what you have read, please review I would appreciate hearing your comments. I could use some warm fuzzies. Chapter 4 will be up soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary** Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content, this story will get dark following Natalie's journey. Spoilers for Season 7 are included so please, you have been warned about the spoilers and darkness.

**Author's Note** This is my first attempt at a fan fic, so please read and review as suggestions and comments would be greatly appreciated. I have tried to keep as honest to the CSI timeline as possible, however, since it is a little fuzzy, so am I. As you read, you will question Ernie's relationship with Natalie. Is Natalie seeing things that aren't there?

This is written with Natalie's perspective in mind. I am writing this because I am trying to fill in what we have not seen from Natalie. In this chapter, Izzy gets whacked and Grissom finds the first miniature.

**Disclaimer** I did not create nor do I own neither the characters nor anything to do with CSI. I am merely a fan. That is it.

Chapter 4 

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The day had finally arrived; after today, Natalie was never going to have to think about Izzy Delancy again. She decided weeks ago that she had to make him pay for the torture that he was putting her through on a daily basis. As there were many people that adored and loved Izzy Delancy, there were just as many that despised and hated him. He was rude, crude and held a cruel malicious streak that was undeniable. Natalie had not _exactly_ discussed the final part of her plan with Ernie. Sure, they had discussed all of their options on how to inflict pain on and how to kill Izzy, but that was all in terms of research for their model. If Ernie knew of Natalie's true plan, he would have only tried to talk her out of it, and she couldn't have that. So, today was going to be the day that she finished the model and finished Izzy.

Every morning, Natalie would arrive to work; Monday, Wednesday and Friday, at exactly 5 am to start her job for the Delancy family. She would use her key and come in the front door and then she would immediately start working in the living room, systematically cleaning the downstairs of the house, one room at a time. She had the "downstairs duty" and Annie - the nanny, had "upstairs duty" and would clean the rooms upstairs at her leisure. It was an odd setup, but Izzy Delancy was rather odd. Normally, by the time Natalie had reached the kitchen to clean, which was the last room before she left, Izzy and Annie would be there, purposefully in her way. Izzy would be fondling Annie a bit and chasing her around the kitchen while making crude lascivious remarks to Natalie. And he would laugh at her as if her terror, especially where bleach was concerned, were the funniest thing he had every seen. He would then go sit at the dining room table, reading his newspaper, that he set off to the left of his placemat, while waiting for his breakfast. After he finished his breakfast, he would go upstairs for his after breakfast fling with Annie, while Natalie finished cleaning his mess. It was a daily routine that never wavered.

After "Annie the Nanny," as Izzy liked calling her, prepared and served him his breakfast of two sunny side up eggs and three pieces of bacon, she would go up stairs to "check on" his baby. She would generally be gone at least an hour, if not more. She didn't think anyone knew that she was actually using this time to go rummaging through Izzy's chicken heads and other disgusting artifacts from his perverted rock star past. But Natalie knew. Natalie also knew that Annie was uploading the pictures that she took to a paparazzi website to sell. One day, Natalie even showed her how to download the pictures from her camera and then upload them and format them for the Web. It was actually an ingenious plan for someone like Annie if you thought about it, each morning as Izzy was eating his breakfast; she would take pictures of his home life and send them out to the highest bidder. The fact that this girl was getting one over on Izzy made Natalie smile. Natalie enjoyed the small anonymous acts of revenge that could be taken out on someone. Once again, Natalie had a knack for flying under the radar, and in this case, it worked to her advantage. If no one paid attention to her, then her task would be all the more simple.

The final line that Izzy crossed was by calling Natalie on her cell phone to mock her about using bleach. Or more accurately, not using bleach. It wasn't bad enough that she had to clean his disgusting sweats, but he insisted that she use bleach, as if that would wash away any of his sins. On that call, he laughed at her. Natalie could even hear the Nanny laughing at her in the background of Izzy's call. She couldn't escape his ridicule; her home was no longer a sanctuary, a quiet lull in the storm that was her thoughts was now gone. He had sealed his own fate in Natalie's eyes with that last phone call. Whatever happened next was _his_ fault. _**Not hers**_.

The next day, she went into work, like nothing had changed, except of course the fact that it was her day off. Natalie went directly to the kitchen and before anyone in the family was awake, she placed her bag and a cardboard box under the kitchen sink. If anyone had seen her, they wouldn't know if she were working or not anyway, so at least if something happened, she had an alibi. Natalie then slowly opened the drawer directly left of the sink and reached in for the marble rolling pin. She calmly pulled it out, tilting her head, marveling in the smooth cool texture of the marble. She gave the rolling pin a little spin and smiled as she heard the slight whirling sound as the pin spun around on its casters. She then went to wait. Natalie waited in the utility room off of the kitchen, a room that she had never seen anyone else enter the entire time she had worked for Izzy. Again, it was a perfect spot for a perfect plan.

At precisely 8:15 am, Natalie heard Annie finishing Izzy's breakfast and then making her way upstairs. Natalie then came out of her hiding place, hugging the walls of the room, trying to be sure to stay out of Izzy's line of sight.

Natalie watched Izzy began eating his breakfast, had had eaten one piece of bacon. She then leisurely, coolly, walked behind Izzy, with the rolling pin at her side. Izzy continued to eat his breakfast, completely oblivious to the fact that Natalie was in the room, let alone the fact that she was walking in his direction. Izzy was never very observant to begin with and once food was in front of him, nothing else mattered. Then, with the confidence that he was not paying any sort of attention to her, Natalie walked up directly behind him and without any hesitation, she raised the rolling pin and hit him squarely, with all of her force, in the back of his head. She let every ounce of rage in her fly out in that one smooth motion. The sound was sharp, but softer than she would have thought as the marble rolling pin struck Izzy's skull. She heard the rolling pin spin again with a slight whirl. Natalie then heard the heavy, thick sound of his head hitting the table. His head bounced a bit as it hit the wood table, which made a smile creep out on to Natalie's lips.

With the big task complete, she then walked over to the sink and washed the blood off of the rolling pin and put it away in the drawer, making sure that it was in the middle, not too far back and not too far forward. Next, Natalie opened the cabinet underneath the sink, all the time humming sweetly to herself. As she squatted down, she pulled her box that she had placed there earlier. It contained the miniature scene that she had finished with Ernie the night before. It was perfect. Well, almost perfect. All she had to do was finish the blood pattern on the miniature model; it had to match what was forming around Izzy's head and what was pooling on the floor. Natalie pulled out and put on her heavy duty cleaning rubber gloves to remove the model and put it on the counter. Natalie marveled at what she had created. She looked down at the miniature scene and then up at the "real" scene. She allowed herself a few seconds to relish in her victory of her perfection. Taking a syringe out of her pocket she siphoned some of Izzy's blood from the pool forming slowly at his head. Then, carefully, with her other hand under the syringe, just in case any blood were to drop off of it, she took it to the miniature and placed drops on the tiny head of Izzy matching it perfectly to the full size scene. She then continued and completed the scene with Izzy's blood forming at the miniature's head on the table and then at his feet. She then took a baggie out of the drawer and placed the syringe in it and put it in her pocket as she was packing up to leave. Natalie was amazed at how it was so easy it all was. It was so simple. She felt such a light, free feeling coming over her, just like …

Natalie started to feel her rage boil in her again, thinking about _her_. Even though she had created this perfect thing, even though this was Natalie's crowning achievement, even though she had been dead for years, Natalie was still thinking about _her_. _**It was always about her**_. Natalie grimaced at that thought as she started to pack up her things to leave. It would be at least 41 more minutes before anyone would find Izzy, and that was more than enough time for her to disappear.

As Natalie started to walk out the front door, she thought about Izzy and the fact that it was his own fault after all. Not hers. He got what he deserved. He just wouldn't _**stop**_.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

In all of his years and experience as a crime scene investigator, Gil Grissom had never seen anything like it before. He had arrived to the crime scene at rock star Izzy Delancy's house only to find an exact replica of the scene in horrifying detail sitting on the counter. He took hundreds of photos at the scene. He was comparing and contrasting every angle of the actual scene to the miniature scene. Everything was precisely the same. It was frighteningly perfect.

After hours at the crime scene, Grissom brought the miniature back to the lab to go through it piece by tiny piece, searching for some clue as to the creator. While he would never openly admit this to anyone, the man that created this miniature scene scared the hell out of him. If a man is capable of this sort of premeditated detail, the patience to create such a thing, God knows what else they would be capable of.

He had just pulled a double, actually close to a triple, examining the evidence and he was to the point that he could barely focus anymore. Sara had left hours ago, and he was ready to go home to her. By the time Grissom got to the townhouse, he was absolutely exhausted, more than he even thought he could be. He was lucky he didn't fall asleep at the wheel. Even worse, he could feel a migraine starting to form and the first thing he wanted to do was to take his rizatriptan and flop on the couch. Grissom knew that once his headache started to form, he would see the lightening bolts shooting in his field of vision and everything would blur. If he didn't take his medicine in time, just the sound of his own breathing would be ear shattering, so he shuffled into the kitchen, took his pills and a bottle of water and headed over to the couch.

As much as he wanted to be with Sara right now, he just didn't have the strength to make it to the bedroom. Grissom decided that he would tough it out on the couch for a while and then make it to bed once he had some of his strength back and his medicine would kick in. He hated anyone, even Sara seeing him weak, seeing a crack in his exterior. So it was just as well that he was out on the couch. He also didn't want to bother her, she was working just as hard as he was and she needed her rest as well. If the first miniature scene was any indication as to what was going to come, they were all going to need as much rest as they could get.

Meanwhile, Sara, unable to sleep, rolled over and noticed that she was still alone in bed. Grissom should have been home long ago and she was starting to get worried. Not the type of worry that sinks into the pit of your stomach, but more that she knew he was wrapped up in the new case involving a miniature crime scene killer and he would probably be in the lab until he fell over. But still, she worried about him, someone had to.

Sara got up and went into the living room and noticed Grissom half asleep on the couch. He was squirming around, trying to get comfortable, and from the looks of it, he was not having much success. He had his pills on the coffee table, so she knew that he was in bad shape and needed to get to bed so he could rest properly. Sara walked over to where he was on the couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table, just watching him. She had seen him like this only a handful of times since they had been together, and it disturbed her each time. Grissom was usually a strong and confident man. When he was like this, he seemed smaller and it was a little tough to witness the change. It wasn't difficult because of him showing a weak side to her, it was just painful to watch what he did to himself. He hated for anyone to see him at less than full Grissom, and he just didn't seem to understand that she didn't care. And as much as Sara hated to admit it, she did enjoy a small part of his misery, obviously not the fact that he was in pain, but because it allowed her to be in control. It allowed her the rare opportunity to take care of him.

"Gris, why don't you come to bed?" she asked, her voice full of concern. She looked at him and with her eyes she was telling him that he better do what she asked. He didn't really have any choice. He learned long ago that sometimes it is better to submit, some fights he wasn't meant to win, and some fights he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to win. She slowly, relaxingly rubbed her fingertips up his arm as she spoke to him, trying to convince him to come with her.

It was a soothing gesture and he almost didn't want to open his eyes because he didn't want her to stop. He loved her touch. He lived for it. Her touch could revive him in ways that he had only read about. 'Hmmm…" Grissom mumbled, trying to hide the smirk that was forming on his lips.

"C'mon tough guy, let's get you to bed. And if you are a good boy, I can make you eggs for breakfast…I will even sprinkle the red ants on them if you want" Sara said with a chuckle as she offered her hand to him.

Grissom slowly got up, leaning into the strength that was being offered to him by Sara. He was trying to steady himself, a little fogged from the medicine. Whenever he took his medicine, it created a thickness in his head that made him feel two steps behind. Sort of like walking down the hall and having to wait for the rest of your body to catch up. Times like this he was happy to have someone take care of him. Someone he could trust. As he straightened up he pulled Sara close to him, startling her a bit and throwing her slightly off balance. She was afraid he was going to fall back so she tightened her grip on him as well, pulling him towards her crashing their bodies together. All of a sudden, Grissom was no longer concerned about his headache and he was trying to maintain his balance for a completely different reason. As he looked into Sara's eyes, he closed the remaining distance between them and gave Sara a slow, sweet kiss at first. He moved his right had up from Sara's waist slowly up her back rubbing it slowly, in perfect rhythm with his kisses that were now sliding down her neck. Sara pulled away when the need for air became insistent, giving her a moment to clear her head. As should rather nothing more in the world than to stand here and kiss this man all day, she knew that he needed his rest and she was supposed to be taken care of him in his weakened state, not taking advantage of it.

'Gris," she slowly said, her eyes trying to focus on something other than his lips and how they would feel on her again. She tried to concentrate on anything other than the fact that this man could completely melt her heart and all of her defenses with five little words.

"You are all I need," he said with a smile, adoring the fact that she cared about him so much.

"No, really…" she said as she pulled her head back, away from his insistent lips. "Let's just get you to bed," as she grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway to their bedroom.

Sara led him over to their bed where she pulled the covers back for him to lie down. He took off his shirt and trousers, tossing them aside and crawled into bed with just his boxers and undershirt. Sara came back from the bathroom with a cool cloth for his head, hoping that might help him. She crawled into bed next to him, and gently placed the cool cloth on his head. He never had the heart to tell her that the cool cloth didn't really make a difference one way or another with his headache. The smile and warmth that he earned the first time he thanked her for her considerate gesture, was worth a little sogginess. If anything, it was her gesture that was more important, that she cared enough to try and make him feel better. He sighed heavily, as he was comfortable and nearing the edge of sleep. Sara removed the cloth from his head and began gently massaging his temples in small circles, while lying across him.

"Gris?" Sara asked, unsure if he were asleep, as she snuggling into the crook of his neck.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think that there are more miniatures out there?" Sara asked as she moved closer to him.

"I don't know" Grissom sighed, as he pulled her tightly to him "I just don't know."

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

**Thanks for reading! If you like what you have read, please review I would appreciate hearing your comments. I could use some warm fuzzies.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary** Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content, this story will get dark following Natalie's journey. Spoilers for Season 7 are included so please, you have been warned about the spoilers and darkness.

**Author's Note** This is my first attempt at a fan fic, so please read and review as suggestions and comments would be greatly appreciated. I have tried to keep as honest to the CSI timeline as possible, however, since it is a little fuzzy, so am I. As you read, you will question Ernie's relationship with Natalie. Is Natalie seeing things that aren't there?

This is written with Natalie's perspective in mind. In this chapter, Penny Garden is the next victim and Natalie is starting to… evolve.

**Disclaimer** I did not create nor do I own neither the characters nor anything to do with CSI. I am merely a fan. That is it.

Chapter 5 

The days following Natalie's last visit to Izzy Delancy's home were, for her, perfect. The world could not be a better place. Each day she waited for Ernie to get home from work and she would make them dinner of double cheese grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. To put it simply, Ernie made her happy. Natalie enjoyed the extra time that she had with him as they made additions to his train set up in his basement. They created new scenes, but this time they were from Ernie's mind and not hers.

Ernie was able to spend extra time with her, showing her how to make molds for special items that they could not find in any stores. They made tiny pots and pans, tiny office equipment pieces. He showed her how to use a torch to heat the metal on a toy car for example, to make it pliable enough to mold it to perfectly wrap around something like a light pole. He was showing her all of his tricks.

What was most comforting to Natalie was that after she finished Izzy's miniature scene, she did not feel her demons raging through her head at full screeching speed, they were more like a dull murmur. She was at ease, helping Ernie around the house and creating little miniatures for him to fill orders from his website and to stock up for an upcoming arts and crafts fair. She created miniature bookcases full of tiny books and tiny knickknacks. It was all encompassing for her.

She was amazed at the effect that working on Izzy's miniature kitchen had on her. It allowed her to take all of her anger, her rage, even her anxiety and put it all in one tiny, perfectly organized place. To focus all of those feelings and redirect them into a single, well-defined sharp point was liberating.

After she started the miniature of Izzy's house, or as she and Ernie called it, her "project," it made it so much easier to deal with Izzy and his torturous comments. She would find herself almost smiling, and sometimes even chuckling to herself at him. She was amused, because while he was trying to ridicule and belittle her, she was envisioning where exactly on the back of his head she should hit him with the rolling pin that would inflict the most damage.

She wondered if it would take more than one hit to kill him. She wondered what it would sound like, smashing the marble rolling pin into his skull. Would it be loud and sharp or soft and dull? She was visualizing how long it would take for the blood to start to pool from his head so she could use it to finish her project. The very thought of seeing part of his skull caved in seemed to have a peaceful effect on her. It would serve him right after all.

With her time off, Natalie was also enjoying the rare opportunity to spend some time with her foster brother Trevor. He would occasionally join she and Ernie for dinner, but he was usually only there to just get something, usually money, from Ernie.

Natalie liked spending time with Trevor when they were little if for no other reason than that he did not make fun of her. He didn't now about Chloe and didn't compare Natalie to her dead sister. He seemed to accept her and her "episodes" as she accepted his. Much like her, he had his own set of quirks and idiosyncrasies. He was deeply involved in his model cars and trains and erector sets. He loved to build things that moved. He also loved his comic books and superheroes and that was the world that he retreated to when things were difficult.

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Although Trevor had a good, steady job at Desert Palms Hospital working as a Physical Therapy Nurse, he had his demons as well. Just like Ernie had and just like Natalie had. But his were a little _different_. While Natalie's problems were not of her own making, Trevor's were all self inflicted.

After watching his mother die, well, the only woman the he considered his mother, Cindy Dell, Trevor decided that he wanted to help people that were suffering like her. Near the end of her life, she was in so much agony and pain that it was gut wrenching to witness. He wanted to help those that were fighting a losing battle to cancer or some other disease that was just as hideous. So that was just what he did. His job was difficult, seeing people every day, in real life that actually matched what he saw his sister and father creating with their little scenes. The difference was he saw real people going through real suffering and they had freaky little dolls and smashed up cars.

Trevor watched the change in Ernie after Cindy passed away and he wanted to help others through that difficult journey. He saw the bitter, brittle shell of a man that Ernie had become. He saw people at their worst levels of suffering, and most of the patients he worked with were on the losing end of the spectrum. The patients that he usually worked with were just trying to get through the day, and if they lived through that, they were grateful.

At least Trevor _started out_ with noble intentions. But after seeing the worst that can happen to people; some that deserved it, some that didn't, every single day, it can start to wear down a man. He didn't have the outlet that Natalie and Ernie did, so he had to create his own. He learned long ago that he did not have the same affinity for living in a miniature world that Natalie and Ernie did.

His world instead involved things that were much more real, and nearly as destructive.

Trevor drank too much, and hung around with whores and what Natalie lectured to him was a "bad crowd." Natalie hated Trevor's friends because they were usually high on some kind of drugs that he took from the hospital and were sloppy, messy and disgusting. Natalie hated to see Trevor get pulled down into their world.

As much as she loved her brother, she had enough of his problems with drugs. When he was using, she saw him as weak and a liability and she didn't want to be around him.

On some level, Natalie blamed herself for Trevor's predilection for narcotics. When she was younger, Ernie took her to a doctor for her "episodes" and during her many visits; she was prescribed a wide variety of drugs that were supposed to make her feel better. The problem was that for Natalie, the drugs dulled her and made her feel worse, if that was possible. Her brain felt bloated and like it was stuck in mud. She also hated the effect that it had on her memory. When she was taking her medicine, trying to access her memory was like going through an old long forgotten dusty box of photographs, looking for one particular item. So, instead of taking the drugs, she started to give them to Trevor or sometimes if he were nice, she would give them to her Lionel or one of the other fosters.

Natalie did however, have to start looking for another job, and while that thought made her apprehensive and nervous, nothing, no job, could be worse than what she had endured with Izzy. Nothing.

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Trevor was at working with a particularly difficult woman, Penny Garden. Penny had cancer that was growing on top of her cancer. She was a mean vile old woman who had spent all of her life waiting on other people and now she was going to be waited on. She was the woman that would cut in line on you at the supermarket, thinking that she deserved it because she had lived longer than you. She was frustrating to Trevor because, she would do nothing to help herself, to extend her life by a few more months if not longer. She just continued smoking and drinking, knowing full well that what she was doing was shortening her life every single day with every drink, with every puff. Penny figured her days were already numbered and she was in so much pain, why make the days even more painful and miserable.

For some reason though, Trevor made a connection to the old woman. Maybe it was because he was the only person that listened to her. Maybe it was because he would slip her a few pharmaceutical samples here and there. Who knows? But when Penny mentioned that she needed someone to help her around the house, he recommended his sister.

If Natalie starting working for the old woman, than Penny might be a bit more tolerable and it would certainly ingratiate him to Ernie for any future favors. For Trevor, it was a win-win situation.

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Ernie was happy that Natalie had started another job, and he was even more pleased that the job had come through Trevor. But, he was becoming concerned because Natalie was starting to retreat again into her shell and he was afraid that she was going to snap. The woman that she was working for had been pushing and pushing Natalie and Ernie was afraid of what the end result would be.

There would be a point that he wouldn't be there anymore for her and he felt that he had to give her the tools to survive after he was gone. Trevor was useful in a pinch but he was spending so much of his time on whores and drugs, that he couldn't be relied on to take care of his special girl. He needed to give Natalie something that she could use to get through her bleach episodes. It was one of Ernie's dreams that one day, Natalie would be able to function with the rest of society. That she would be happy and maybe, one day, have a family of her own. One day, she would be able to take care of herself. It was his dream anyway.

It did not escape Ernie the effect that the creation of the miniature scene had on Natalie. So, this time it was Ernie that came up with the idea of doing another miniature for her new job. Ernie thought that they could work on this one before the situation became a problem for her. He figured if Natalie could learn how to focus her feelings, focus her energy, she would use this as a tool to cope with her problems and her "crusades."

Maybe she could take over for him one day and sell her creations on the Internet or hobby shows so she wouldn't have to rely on anyone but herself. It was obvious that Natalie did not do well in social situations, so this would be a perfect option for her.

So, Ernie told her to start sketching the house that she was working in and then they would start shopping for parts. Natalie treasured the time she spent with Ernie in the hobby and craft stores. She loved their special time. Ernie made her feel like she was the only girl in the world. He made her feel special. He made her feel _loved_.

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To say that Natalie was having difficulties with her new job cleaning house for Penny Garden would be an understatement. Penny wanted things a particular way and she would accept nothing less. She often treated Natalie more as a personal servant than a cleaning woman. She sent Natalie all around the house to get her medicine or get her scissors to clip her coupons.

Penny would berate Natalie at every turn, primarily because the woman wanted her to use bleach on everything. _Everything._ She wanted it used on the floors, with the clothes, in the bathroom, _everywhere_. She said it was the only way to truly get anything clean.

But this time it was different. When Natalie heard Penny start complaining about her cleaning abilities, it didn't strike the same chord of fear in her that it did with Izzy. Yes, it made her angry and she wanted to do whatever was necessary to make the old woman shut up, but she didn't have the same sense of panic. As long as she did not come to close to her with the bleach, she was fine. Maybe it was because now she knew what she was capable of.

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A few weeks later, when Natalie showed up at his door a complete wreck once again, Ernie was happy that they had already started and nearly completed their new "project." The old woman that she was working for seemed to be not only hateful, but she seemed to know what buttons to push with Natalie to make her crumble. She was a hateful old woman full of dirty sins. When Natalie spoke of her, she said that she always reeked of cheap cherry liquor and cigarettes. Her hygiene seemed to be questionable as well. She had been sick, with cancer as Trevor told them, but it didn't excuse her behavior. It didn't excuse the hatefulness that she spewed at Natalie.

It killed Ernie every time that Natalie was in pain. Every day after work, Ernie would her for hours about the old woman and how she tormented Natalie. He could feel her pain deep in the pit of his stomach when he saw her like this. He wanted to hold her, and make all of her problems go away.

When Natalie came through the door, he knew immediately that it was going to be a long night. She was muttering to herself as she brushed past him and Ernie had trouble understanding what she was saying. He knew something was wrong and had a good idea what it was. He was sure that it was something to do with the old woman and she had probably been yelling more about using bleach, the one thing that Natalie could not do. This time she went straight to her out of control place in her head. Ernie could tell by looking into her eyes that she was far away. She sat on the sofa rocking back and forth and then leapt up and paced singing quietly to herself, the same song that she always did when she was like this…

"_They took her away in a hospital van _

_And the whole town was filled with the blues. _

Everyone thought it was quite an odd thing 

_And the papers all printed the news."_

"Honey, please sit down…" Ernie begged her while trying to reach out and still her.

"She..._fired_…how…" She looked angry and was waving her arms about, swaying her head back and forth as though she were trying to keep time to some tune or listen to some voice on the other side of a door.

"Please…honey…" he tried again to grab her and she broke out of his grip.

Natalie looked at Ernie and spewed, "She fired me because I would not use bleach to clean her grout…her grout…I just…_couldn't_" she almost screamed.

Ernie stopped her and slowly put his arms around her slender waist. He pulled her close to him, slowly moving one hand up her back and tangled lightly into her hair. He tried to offer soothing words of comfort into her neck as he held her tightly to him. She finally stopped moving and wrapped her arms around Ernie, in a bone-crushing hug as though he were the only thing tethering her to earth. It was as if she let go she would float away into some unknown territory. Natalie never understood why but Ernie was the only one that could soothe her. She had a few boyfriends, very few, but they never seemed to measure up to the safety and love that she felt from Ernie. She knew that he would always protect her.

Feeling her start to relax, Ernie pulled his head away slightly to look into her eyes. She looked small and lost. He gently brushed her hair out of her eyes and tucked a few errant strands behind her ear. As she leaned into his touch, Ernie gave her a soft kiss and took her hand leading her over to the couch. But this time, Ernie saw something different in Natalie. Although she still looked lost and strained, there was something else there that he could not identify. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that she looked…determined.

As opposed to going over to the couch as Ernie was trying to direct her, she instead led him in the direction of his workshop. As he looked at her confused, she had a look of … _confidence?_… on her face, something that he had never seen before.

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It had been two days since Penny left Natalie a voicemail firing her, only to replace her with her junkie nephew Henry. In that time, Natalie had been sneaking by Penny's house each night to make sure that nothing had changed in the old woman's routine. Her schedule had been so erratic at the old woman's, sometimes she wanted her to work in the morning and sometimes she worked in the evening, but mostly she wanted Natalie there at night. That way she could keep an eye on Natalie. She had accused Natalie of stealing everything from her spare change to her narcotics.

Natalie chuckled to herself as she watched the old woman bury under a rock her Fentanyl. Natalie was taking some of it, but she only started once Penny's nephew moved in, right before she was fired. Natalie figured that anything missing would be blamed on him, not her, and who knows how the Fentanyl may come in handy later, at the very least, she could give it to Trevor and he could sell it for her.

The day had finally come that she was going to finish the miniature and take care of Penny as well. She sat alone in her apartment, finishing her project, adding the Penny doll and carefully gluing her on the white wicker chair. The final piece that she added was the picture of Chloe on a pillow. As much as she wanted to escape _her_, she couldn't. It was _her_ fault that she ended up this way and people had to know who to blame.

Natalie watched from the back yard and waited. She first waited for Penny to go to the hospital for her treatments and while Penny was gone, Natalie went in with her key and laced the old woman's cherry liquor with liquid nicotine. The liquid nicotine is bitter, but it is perfect for the sweet liquor and the fact that Penny's taste buds are shot from the years of smoking. Even better, the liquor and Penny's own smoking would have covered any smell. Still better yet, Penny's own vice would be the cause of her demise. It would be Penny's own fault. Not Natalie's.

Natalie then went outside and waited. Penny had a large fence and many bushes in the backyard, so it was easy for Natalie to find a place to sit and wait. As soon as Penny put on her record player, Natalie planned on coming into the house through the back door and wait in the kitchen for Penny to die. She would then leave the miniature on the coffee table and then go home.

She was happy that there was not going to be blood at this scene. That was a bit of pain for Natalie last time and it was stressful for her. She had to make sure that the miniature of Izzy matched the actual Izzy exactly, and there were too many external factors. And, Natalie did not like surprises.

As soon as Natalie heard the music, she let herself in the back door and then crept into the kitchen and waited.

Penny took a sip of her cherry liquor and then swallowed the rest in one gulp. She started to clip her coupons and took a puff of her cigarette. And then something was very wrong. She started to feel a burning in her throat and was having trouble breathing. She stood up and was flailing about the living room, knocking her chair over as she was grasping for air.

Natalie came out of her hiding place at the scene and she was furious. Penny should have stayed in her seat and died there. She should have stayed in her seat. Now Natalie had to fix things. Natalie had a surge of unbridled rage pulsing through her. She would not let this horrible woman stop her.

Natalie came forward and grabbed Penny and spun her around, dragging her through the living room. Instantly Penny recognized Natalie and by looking into her eyes, she knew if she didn't fight her, she was dead. The old woman however was no match for Natalie, who was hopped up on not only adrenaline, but also a steely determination to complete her task. Natalie continued to drag Penny, knocking anything in their path over, and then shoved her out the front window.

Natalie was beside herself. How could this happen? She planned everything to the last fucking detail and the old woman did not die in the chair. Natalie was sure that she had put more than enough liquid nicotine into the bottle. That was _not_ supposed to happen. The woman was supposed to play that damn song "Lollipop" by the Chordettes on her old crackling record player. She would light her cigarette and then pour her cherry liquor and. She would puff, cough, drink and then cut coupons. Puff, drink, cut. Puff, drink, puff, cough, cut. Liquid nicotine _should _have worked.

Natalie kicked the debris in the living room, the coupons and glass, just like a petulant child that didn't get a candy bar at the grocery store. She was also livid. She took a quick glance back at Penny sticking out the window, memorizing the cuts and position of her body. She then grabbed the miniature back and ran out of the house through the back yard.

What the hell was she going to do now? 

xxxxxxxxxxx

**Thanks for reading! If you like what you have read, please leave a review I would appreciate hearing your comments. I could use some warm fuzzies.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary** Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content, this story will get dark following Natalie's journey. Spoilers for Season 7 are included so please, you have been warned about the spoilers and darkness.

**Author's Note** This is my first attempt at a fan fic, so please read and review as suggestions and comments would be greatly appreciated. I have tried to keep as honest to the CSI timeline as possible, however, since it is a little fuzzy, so am I. As you read, you will question Ernie's relationship with Natalie. Is Natalie seeing things that aren't there?

_**This is written with Natalie's perspective in mind…remember that.**_ In this chapter, Penny Garden stresses Natalie, another mini is created and Natalie is continuing to… evolve.

Also, I apologize for the long delay in updating. I am in the process of interviewing for new jobs and trying to pack my house up to sell and move across country. Sorry. I promise to try and do better.

**Disclaimer** I did not create nor do I own neither the characters nor anything to do with CSI. I am merely a fan. That is it.

Chapter 6 

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck!_

To say that Natalie was pissed would be an understatement. She had planned Penny Garden's demise down to the very last second, to the very last detail. She had mapped the old woman's movements and habits and took every detail into account. Her miniature of Penny's house was perfect. She had done her research, completed her task and everything perfect. _Perfect._

And then the old woman had to destroy her plan. She _should_ have died where she sat but instead, she started to get up and convulse and Natalie had to physically finish the job. Natalie had panicked and then did the only thing she could. She tossed the old woman into the window.

x x x x x 

Natalie was shaken to the core. Her plan had almost failed. It was far too close to failure for her liking. She vowed to herself that it would be different _next_ time… _if it were necessary for a next time._

By the time Natalie got back to her apartment she was shaking and soaked in a cold, clammy sweat. Sure, it was Vegas and it was hot, but this was the sweat that you feel only when anxiety courses through your veins at such a speed that it gives your entire body a work out.

As soon as she was able to finally calm herself and start breathing again, Natalie carefully unpacked the miniature and started to carefully take it apart. She first took the front windows out and meticulously cut each one to match the current state of Penny's house. She then reset the tiny Penny doll to match the new scene. She had to unglue the Penny doll from its wicker chair and then place her, headfirst, twisting the head to face the left, jutting out the newly "broken" window. She was careful to carve the little cuts and gashes into Penny's face and neck from her memory. She had to rearrange all of the little coupons, carefully placing one on top of the others, $1.39 for a gallon of _bleach_.

Natalie was incensed that the miniature was not going to be perfect now. She didn't have any of Penny's blood from the scene to add to the miniature so she had to make due with red paint. It took her over an hour to mix the proper shade of red to make it perfectly match what flowed out of Penny's neck and into the tiny bushes below.

When Natalie found her working stride, she started to hum sweetly to herself and twist her head about, back and forth, as if she were listening to a voice that only she could hear as she adjusted the miniature scene. As she worked on the miniature, she thought to herself about ways to make sure that nothing like this could ever happen again. She had to prove to everyone that she was worth something, that she could do something right, that she was the sister to be remembered. Not _her_. Not the _other_ one.

Natalie worked all through the night and into the next day to complete Penny's house. Now, all she had to do was to get it back to the scene. To Natalie, the miniature not being there was like a painful open sore that she couldn't stop picking at. She had to finish it and get it back to the house. The problem was that she knew that she couldn't go herself. There were too many uncontrollable variables at play. What if someone saw her at the house or worse, what if her nephew Henry had seen her? Or what about the drug dealing neighbors to the left? She was sure she was careful, but what if she missed something? There were too many things that could go wring at this point. Someone else would have to do it for her. It had to be someone that she trusted.

x x x x x

"Ernie, _please_…" she sobbed, "You have to drop this off for me. I was working on a project for her, it was a gift for her granddaughter, and…and… she was so mean and … _I can't see her again_." Natalie couldn't risk going back. In her mind, it would be OK for Ernie. He could just drop it off. She couldn't risk any kind of scene. Besides, Ernie did tell her to get another job and it was his and Trevor's fault that she even had to deal with the woman.

"You told me to get another job!" she continued, yelling " I did… I tried it and it didn't work out…she…she…_fired_ me…because of the _bleach_!" Natalie trailed off.

" You need to do this for me!" She was starting to rage again at this point, quickly pacing throughout Ernie's living room, from one end of the room to the other. "I was trying to finish my commitment! That is what you tell me! I promised her I would finish a project for her, but I can't go back now! Not after the way that she treated me! Not after what she wanted me to do," Natalie was both lying and screaming now.

She knew that under no uncertain terms would Ernie be thrilled with her stress management techniques. She knew he was happy about the two of them making the miniatures together, but he would stop her from _**completing**_ the projects. He just didn't _fully_ understand her. Ernie was happy and content with just creating the miniature scenes of mayhem and he was finished. That was his outlet. She, on the other hand, needed to **complete** the task. If the scene did not come true, she felt like something was missing. It was like walking along through your day with the nagging feeling that you forgot something, but had no idea if it was your curling iron that you left on or if you left your doors unlocked in a crime ridden neighborhood. It was like a hole that needed filled. For Natalie, both worlds needed to match. Perfectly.

x x x x x

It was against Ernie's better judgment to drop off the package to the old woman's house for Natalie. What he really wanted to do was have words with her. She had made his special little girl so upset and sent her into such a tailspin, that he wanted to give her some of the grief that she had inflicted back. The woman seemed like a sinful bitch that needed to be put in her place. But Natalie needed him and he was not going to fail her. This was the least he could do for her. Although he was very curious to see what she had worked on for the old woman.

Natalie was painfully explicit and exact in her request. She just wanted him to drop off the package, at night, between 10 pm and 11 pm on the front porch and then immediately leave. She told him that she was worried about some violent drug addicted nephew of the old woman, so he was touched that she was concerned about him, so he did as she asked.

At 10:15 pm, Ernie walked up to the front porch and dropped off the box. As he was walking away, he noticed that the old woman had done some work on the front of the house…it looked like she just got new windows. Must be nice he thought to himself.

_His bigger concern was her new job working with him at the plant. _

x x x x x

Trevor and Ernie had finally decided that it might be best for everyone if Natalie worked closer to Ernie. He had hoped that he would be able to keep a closer eye on her and help keep her on track. She was veering off course quickly, more so than usual, and he wanted to know why and what he could do to help her. Ernie was doing the best that he knew how to take care of and watch over Natalie. He didn't want a replay of what had happened in Kansas with Raymond.

Raymond was one of Ernie's many foster children, and one of the few that he was close to after his wife died. In fact, up until two years ago, Natalie was living in Rapid City, Kansas with Raymond. Things were going well for a few months, but one night they got into a terrible fight and Natalie abruptly moved to Las Vegas a few days later. He never did get the complete story about their fight.

It always made Ernie sad that they were never able to make amends. A week after their blow up, while he was working at his constriction site, Raymond was accidentally crushed by his own backhoe in a freak accident. There was some problem with the hydraulic pistons in the stabilizer legs of his backhoe, locking them in the raised position. When Raymond jumped down to fix the problem, the legs crushed into the earth below with their full force, as Raymond was sprawled out directly underneath them.

x x x x x

Ernie knew that it wouldn't take much more for Natalie to completely break beyond repair. The difficult thing was that he knew deep down that she was going to have to start fending for herself soon. He wasn't going to be around forever. He just wasn't sure if she was ready for that yet, ready to be alone. So he had gotten her a job on the cleaning crew with him at Mannleigh Chickens, where he worked.

Unfortunately, they were only able to work a few shifts together before she was put on the night crew. Natalie preferred to work at night, but he was leery of her being alone, without his protection. The night crew was full of misfits like Raymundo Suarez. Raymundo was not exactly the type that he wanted his little girl associating with. He was a whoremonger and had other questionable predilections. But, Ernie tried to just do his job and ignore him, but only after having a heated argument with him warning him to stay away from Natalie.

"Hey, who is that new piece that started today?" Raymundo had asked no one in particular in the break room as he clocked in for the day.

_Ernie just stared at Raymundo, trying to pierce through him with his gaze before stepping up to him. "That young woman, is my daughter and you better damn well not even look at her!" Ernie said through his gritted teeth. Raymundo was much younger and stronger than Ernie, but he didn't care. At this moment he was trying to protect the honor of his family._

"Don't you worry old man. I will take care of your little girl for you. Don't you worry about a thing," Raymundo mocked as he slapped Ernie on the shoulder as he chuckled on his way out to the slaughter floor.

Raymundo was a disgusting sort. He was vulgar and foul in every sense of the words. He was regularly having sex with the owner's wife while at work in the plant. They especially enjoyed screwing up against the chicken coops, with the birds clucking and flitting about. He particularly relished the event, as an added bonus, if it would happen in front of Natalie. He would pick the area that he knew she was supposed to clean or work in. He loved seeing her become uncomfortable and squirm and try to look away, as he banged away at the whore. He was slowly finding out what her buttons were and he was taking pleasure in the opportunity to press every one of them.

He, on a regular basis, hit on Natalie, making an assortment of inappropriate comments, mostly to get a rise out of her, and much to his amusement, she did not disappoint him. She would stutter and stammer, as he would back her in a dark corner. He loved it when he would try to touch her and she would either freak out completely and try to slap him or, even better, when she would freeze like a statue. That was actually his favorite reaction, because he could do whatever he wanted. She would hold completely still as he touched her. That became his new favorite game.

Raymundo would come at Natalie like a cat stalking a frightened, defenseless little mouse. When he would come at her, the more he smelled like bleach, the stronger her reaction. Sometimes she would fight him, but other times she would almost blackout, it was like she wasn't even there anymore. She could smell the bleach, the stench bringing the bile bubbling up from her stomach, but she would be frozen, stuck in her own mind. Trapped. By the time she would come blinking back into reality, Raymundo would be touching her, roughly running his hands all over her. She would push him away with all of her strength and he would just sneer at her, laughing.

x x x x x

Almost immediately after starting to work at the factory, Natalie had started another miniature. She hated working there more than anywhere else that she had ever been. The entire factory reeked. Not only did it reek of "death" as Ernie used to tell her, the stench of freshly killed birds, but more importantly and more painfully, of _bleach_. The bleach was in huge 50-gallon drums strategically placed all over the work floor. She could not avoid it. They were supposed to use it in all of their cleaning because of its disinfectant properties, but she just couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to touch it. She would sweep and mop with plain water or another cleaning concoction that she would bring from home, but she _could_ not, she _would_ not, use the bleach.

It was horrible for her. When she came home at night, she would immediately strip down and shower for over an hour. She had to scrub not only the smell of the chickens off of her, but the bleach as well. It permeated into everything; it was as if the contact with the bleach in the air soaked through her clothes and into her very pores. She could barely stand the smell of her work clothes in her apartment just to undress, let alone over night, so she had to wash them every night.

The thing that she hated more than the bleach, if that was possible, was Raymundo and what he was doing to her, and for that he had to pay.

x x x x x

On her last day at the factory, Natalie waited until there was only 2 hours left in her shift before she came up behind Raymundo. He was checking the controls for the chicken stun bath, when Natalie gave him a shove into the water. At first, he started to laugh at her, thinking about what he was going to her for getting him all wet. And then he realized what she was doing; by then it was too late.

Natalie flipped the lever, turning the electricity on, effectively killing Raymundo. When she was sure he was dead, she turned the electricity off and shoved him all the way in, with his face down in a few inches of water. With a spring in her step and a smile on her lips she put out her miniature of the slaughter floor next to the stun bath and started to walk away. She turned around back to Raymundo and moved his right leg closer to the left.

_Perfect._

x x x x x

**Thanks for reading! If you like what you have read, please leave a review. I would appreciate hearing your comments. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary** Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content, this story will get dark following Natalie's journey. Spoilers for Season 7 are included so please, you have been warned about the spoilers and darkness.

**Author's Note** This is my first attempt at a fan fic, so please read and review as suggestions and comments would be greatly appreciated. I have tried to keep as honest to the CSI timeline as possible, however, since it is a little fuzzy, so am I. As you read, you will question Ernie's relationship with Natalie. Is Natalie seeing things that aren't there?

_**This is written with Natalie's perspective in mind…remember that.**_ Ernie realizes what Natalie is and Natalie learns who Gil Grissom is.

Also, I apologize for the long delay in updating. I am in the process of interviewing for new jobs and trying to pack my house up to sell and move across country. Sorry. I promise to try and do better.

**Disclaimer** I did not create nor do I own neither the characters nor anything to do with CSI. I am merely a fan. That is it.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

Chapter 7 

**x x x x x x x x x x **

The first thing Ernie Dell saw when he came into work today was Raymundo Suarez face down, dead in the chicken stun bath. Although it would be a horrible way to die, take your pick, electrocution or drowning, Ernie found it slightly ironic. The thought of how Raymudo died made Ernie smile a bit. Raymundo died in the same smelly, disgusting way in which he lived. Ernie was just glad that Natalie was not around to see it. She had enough troubles with Raymundo, and Ernie didn't think that she should be exposed to that level of violence. As far as Ernie knew, the only dead body that Natalie had ever seen was her sister Chloe, and, well, that was enough. Ernie knew that was the start of all of her troubles and he wanted to do everything that he could to make her life more bearable.

If a dead body wasn't challenging enough for the start of his day, the plant was now swarming with police officers and detectives and various other official people. Too many people poking around if you were to ask him. Ernie really just wished that they would hurry up and do their job so they could get Raymundo out of the stun bath. He was starting to stick up the place worse that the chickens that were piling up.

Ernie was not accustomed to dealing with the police. He had always been able to pull off the friendly grandfather look, enough to just skirt around any sort of suspicion for anything that he might have done. Even when he was younger, he always skimmed along the perimeter, never really calling any attention to himself or his activities. So, when he was questioned at the plant about Raymundo's death, he was miles out of his element and certainly uncomfortable. He had nothing to hide, so he didn't worry that much about talking to the police captain, but still, it bothered him.

The police captain, Jim Brass, asked him a wide variety of questions about his relationship with Raymundo, what he was like and if anyone would want him dead. Ernie told him everything he knew about Raymundo, and about who would want him harmed, well… _almost everyone that would want him dead_. Ernie was careful to leave out any issue he had with Raymundo and he left Natalie completely out of the conversation. There was no need to bring her into this.

After his conversation with the police captain, Ernie stated to get to work, eventually, cleaning the stun bath the Raymundo's body had occupied. The task gave him time to think. More like time to worry. It was one thing to wish someone else harm, to dream about it, to fantasize about it, but it was something else entirely when your wishes come true. Raymundo had been such a bastard to Natalie, the agony that he inflicted on her, only half of which he probably knew about, and the rest that he couldn't even bring himself to consider. Many nights Ernie wanted to choke Raymundo with his bare hands. He wanted to throttle him for bringing such sadness and distress into Natalie's life. He had vowed that he would make Raymundo pay; he had just hoped he would have been the one to dispense justice. Who would do this to Raymundo? Fate, for once, was kind to Ernie and his family. _Or so he thought_.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

Ernie came home from his weekly dinner with Natalie only to find that Las Vegas' finest had been traipsing in and out of his house, making a mess of things. There were police cars and cops everywhere, on his lawn, in the street, in his house. They were hauling out brown grocery type bags of his stuff. They were everywhere that he could see.

When he got inside his house, he saw that the police were in his workshop and were taking his molds and miniature projects that he had been working on. Each item was carefully placed in its own individually labeled bag. The police were photographing everything in his home in painstaking detail. His life was being invaded and he was not at all happy about it. This was not good. Not at all.

Later that night, Ernie was hauled down to the police station and grilled about not only Raymundo's death, but to his surprise, Penny Garden and Izzy Delancy as well. This was not going to be a good time. Things took a particularly ugly turn when he saw the photographs of what he recognized as Natalie's work. He could feel his heart beat out of his chest when Gil Grissom showed him all of the photos. Pictures of his molds directly compared to Natalie's miniature items and scenes. Pictures of real dead bodies compared to miniature dead dolls. The detail was exact. For a brief, fleeting second, for just a flash of time, Ernie was proud of what he saw. The miniature scenes were perfect, even beautiful. And then reality struck him. _Natalie was a monster_?

He was stunned silent. He felt the bile rise up from his stomach into his throat, burning the whole way. He was using all of his energy to keep from vomiting across the table. What could have pushed Natalie to kill these people? She couldn't have anything to do with this…could she? The meeting was a blur. His mind was trying to filter through all of the information he was receiving from the cops and trying to not give Natalie away. He had to protect her. Ernie vaguely remembered them trying to play tough with him. Picking on an old man. He fought right back and without anything to hold him on, they had to let him go.

As Ernie was leaving the police station, he called Natalie on her cell phone immediately. He needed to know if she had any part in what the police showed him. If she did, he had a whole new problem on his hands. He had to talk to her to figure it all out. There had to be a reason. Some misunderstanding. There had to be, otherwise, she was a cold-blooded murderer, something that he could not allow himself to even consider.

"Natalie, it's me. We need to talk… I am coming over right now. The police showed me pictures of them miniatures that we worked on together and dead people. Dead people! Honey, stay right there, I will be there in ten minutes," was the message that Ernie left for her. She never answered her Goddamn phone. It always went straight to voicemail. It never mattered who it was, she never answered the phone. He knew she was looking at the caller id, and knew it was him but she still wouldn't pick up. It made him crazy.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

Natalie was working on a new project when she heard her phone ring. She didn't immediately get up to answer it because she was so engrossed in painting the finishing touches on a new miniature doll that she didn't want to break her stride. Once she started, she always found it difficult to stop. When she was finished painting the necessary details on the doll's face, she got up, took off her rubber gloves, and walked over to her phone. She looked down at it and saw that she had a message. It was from Ernie and after she listened to his message, her heart almost quit beating, actually, it stopped and then traveled up into her throat. She was now gripped by true absolute panic. How could the police know? Did they know about Chloe? Why would they call Ernie and what was he going to do? She would have to tell him, she was never very good at lying to him, as he had a way to make her tell him everything. He was not going to understand. He was not going to be happy with her. She only did what she had to do…

When Ernie arrived at Natalie's apartment door, he took a deep breath before raising his hand to knock. How was he going to talk to her about this? What was he going to say? What was she going to say? She wasn't capable of murder? _Was she?_

Ernie finally knocked at her door. On the third knock she opened the door to let him in, and he brushed past her into the living room. Now he was the one that was frantically pacing. Maybe he should have seen this coming. It always disturbed him seeing the shrine of sorts that she had of a dead doll from every angle. Her entire apartment was more of a workshop, devoted to her projects. She had no television, no stereo, and no dining room. She did everything while looking up at the massive bloody doll parts. The apartment was dim and dark. The windows were covered by her "art." It reminded him of something out of a horror movie. The only other furniture in space was her bed. It was a depressing and scary place to be, but it seemed to make her happy and comfortable, so he never said anything. Maybe he should have.

Natalie just sat on the edge of her bed waiting for Ernie to speak. She never took her eyes off of him as he paced back and forth through her room. He was upset and he kept opening his mouth to say something and then snapping it back shut, shaking his head. She was not used to seeing Ernie upset and unnerved. That was usually her role.

After a few tense moments to compose himself, Ernie started, " I just came from the Police Department and they showed me your miniatures and pictures of dead people."

Natalie was starting to panic, tears forming in her eyes. She could feel her pulse race and her mouth went dry. She was at a loss as to what to do or say.

"Honey, the cops know I helped you build some of that stuff. They even know I delivered that package to the old lady's house like you asked me to." He paused for a second, trying to get the most difficult sentence out. 'They think that **I**killed all of those people."

"But you didn't." Natalie said simply, shaking her head, not really understanding the conversation.

"Did you kill them?" Ernie asked, trying to look into her eyes. He was desperately struggling to read her.

Natalie just looked down at the floor, overwhelmed by terror, completely frozen, unable to answer.

Ernie stepped closer to Natalie, bending down, trying to get to her level. When she didn't acknowledge him, he put both hands on her knees. He slowly started rubbing his hands in small circles over her knees, moving up her thighs. "Honey," he started again, "did you?"

"Yes…" Natalie barely whispered.

Ernie was shocked. His hand movements stopped and he started to stand up and pace again. He thought that Natalie was the only thing that he had done right in his life. How could she have done this, murder? It was like he was looking at a different person. At this moment, Ernie realized that this was no longer his little girl; Natalie was now something much more.

"Why? Why would you do that?" Ernie pleaded.

Natalie continued to look down at the floor, looking at the lower region of the room, not wanting to deal with this, not now. Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away. This would all go away. She started to hear a little tune in her head.

" Honey, they are going to put you in jail!" Ernie tried to find a tone to emphasize the importance of the conversation while keeping her grounded in the here and now. He was trying to desperately find a way to rationalize Natalie's actions. "Unless you had a good reason to do what you did. The cops would listen to that. What about Raymundo…did he touch you?' he asked, needing to know but not really wanting to know the answer.

"Yess…that smell…" Natalie said, maybe a little too loudly. Now everything was starting to come crashing into her head. She was seeing blinding flashes and bursts of Raymundo. Him pawing on her, grabbing her, reeking of bleach. She felt like she was falling, and that she was losing all control over herself as she was over her life. With the miniatures, she had complete control, now…everything was wildly spinning free.

Natalie was frantically trying to pay attention to Ernie. She could only hear every other word that he was saying now. His words were intermixed with that little tune. The same little tune that always burrows into her skull.

"_Something is wrong with my little insides._

_I'm just as sick as can be."_

The room is starting to become fuzzy and unfocused. Ernie is angry now and Natalie is trying to understand why. He is more animated than she had ever seen him and it is frightening her. The tears in her eyes are close to overflowing; she is losing her fight to hold them back.

Ernie was continuing, trying to get through to Natalie, "And the old lady? The pervert rock star?" He came down to Natalie's level again, bending down so that he is able to look into her eyes, resting his hands on her face, pulling her towards him, to look at him.

"If they did something, tell me. I know some people deserve killed, I do, but you had a good reason right?"

"Yes…" Natalie said, now hearing more of Ernie and less of the song. Everything is starting to come back into focus. She blinks her eyes and leans in to his touch. He slides his right hand down from her face, trailing it softly, soothingly down her arm. Somehow his touch always seems to bring her back. Natalie lets her tears flow slowly, freely, because she knows that will make him stop being upset with her. He is going to stop talking and tell her everything will be all right. It always is. At least that is what he always says.

"All right, listen to me. I am going to take care of this. I ain't goin' to let nothing happen to you. Promise you won't kill anymore. Promise me you will be a good girl. I need you to do that for me. After all you are my special girl" he finishes with a smile.

Natalie instantly perks up "Your special girl?"

"That's right, my special girl."

"I promise" Natalie responds sweetly.

Ernie kisses her softly and turns to leave. He has to do something to protect her. He can't let anything happen to her. He looks back at Natalie once more before he walks out her door, smiling sadly at her, knowing that he is her only last hope. And with that last thought, he leaves her to go home.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

When Ernie got home, he quickly put all of his important documents in a locked firebox that he kept under his bed. He gathered together all of his credit cards and a large amount of cash to put in the box as well. Both Natalie and Trevor knew that if anything were to ever happen to him, they were supposed to get the box before anyone else could. The less that the Government knew about what to take, the better. He did remove one item from the box. His revolver.

Ernie then went to the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea. After his encounter with the police and Natalie, hot tea sounded very good to him right now. When it was ready, he poured a bit into a fine china cup, adding sugar and milk. He then went down to his workshop to use his computer. He was going to confess to Natalie's crimes. The police would eventually find out about Natalie and there was no way that she would be able to survive prison, let alone the trial.

Ernie turned on his webcam and logged on to his email. He was preparing to send his confession to Gil Grissom.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

Two days after their "fight", where Natalie made her promise to Ernie, they were supposed to have lunch together. It was grilled cheese and tomato soup day and Natalie was happy about the opportunity to see Ernie.

When Ernie was ten minutes late, Natalie tried calling him with no luck. After half an hour, Natalie called Trevor to see if he knew anything. Nothing. Natalie started to panic, where is Ernie? She called the hospitals, called Mannleigh Chickens, she called everywhere she could think of. In fact, the only place she did not call was the police station.

Frantic, Natalie called a cab to take her over to Ernie's house. Just waiting for it was making her insane. Her mind was flooded with thoughts about horrible things happening to Ernie. Maybe something had happened to him. Maybe he was hurt or sick.

As the cab turned down Ernie's street, that was when she saw it. Police cars. Lots of them in the distance. She could see the alternating red and blue and white lights. She was mesmerized for a moment and then told the driver to take her home. She had to get home and figure out what was happening.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

When Natalie got home she was a mess. Actually, a mess would be the kindest way to describe Natalie's state of mind. Her thoughts were working overtime and she had envisioned every horrible, gut-wrenching scenario that made up her nightmares.

She had called everyone that she could think of. There had to be another way to find out what was going on. Natalie checked Ernie's voicemail, with no luck. She knew it was wrong, but Natalie knew all of Ernie's passwords and PIN numbers. She didn't want to know, but with a photographic memory, it was hard not to. Sometimes she would check his voicemail or check his e-mail, just to make sure. To make sure that everything he told her was true.

Finally, she checked his outgoing e-mails. There were order confirmations for his website, notes from his Locomotiville friends. Nothing that was telling her what was happening. And then she looked at the last message. It was to a and was titled "I CONFESS TO THE MURDERS OF"

Natalie froze. One word was repeatedly bouncing through her head "No." How could he do that? Why would he confess to what she did. He said it would be ok, and she believed him. She just never thought that he would take responsibility for what she had done. It was her crusade, not his.

Natalie opened the sent message and clicked on the link within the message. She was surprised to see that it was Ernie. He had sent a video clip confession to a Gil Grissom. She smiled at the thought that he was trying to protect her. He was the only one that truly cared for her, loved her.

As he finished his message, Natalie was still no closer to knowing what had happened. Then, she watched in horror as Ernie quickly raised his revolver, placed it under his chin and fired. He fell forward, with the bloody hole in his head facing the camera. His body was soon swarmed by SWAT members and Natalie watched in shock as they checked his vital signs. She heard one of them say he was dead. She turned it off and abruptly ran to the bathroom to be sick. She continued throwing up until there was nothing left and she was just a heaving pile on her bathroom floor.

When Natalie woke up, she was still lying on her bathroom floor. She was cold and shaking and she only had one thought. Gil Grissom.

Natalie had made a promise not to kill anyone else to Ernie. But he was dead and so was her promise to him. Gil Grissom had taken away the only light, the only bright point in her life. If it weren't for that man, Ernie would still be alive, here with her. Gil Grissom had forced Ernie to make a choice. His life for hers.

Gil Grissom would have to make the same choice, to feel what it was like to have blood on his hands.

Natalie got up and went to her workbench. She had a lot to work on.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

**Thanks for reading! If you like what you have read, please leave a review I would appreciate hearing your comments. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary** Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content, this story will get dark following Natalie's journey. Spoilers for Season 7 are included so please, you have been warned about the spoilers and darkness.

**Author's Note** This is my first attempt at a fan fic, so please read and review as suggestions and comments would be greatly appreciated. I have tried to keep as honest to the CSI timeline as possible, however, since it is a little fuzzy, so am I. As you read, you will question Ernie's relationship with Natalie. Is Natalie seeing things that aren't there?

I am also going to try to write smaller chapters so that I can update more often. I appreciate you sticking around.

_**This is written with Natalie's perspective in mind…remember that.**_ Natalie is out for Gil Grissom…but the question is does he know?

Also, I apologize for the long delay in updating. I just accepted a new job and trying to pack my house up to sell and move across country. Sorry. I promise to try and do better.

**Disclaimer** I did not create nor do I own neither the characters nor anything to do with CSI. I am merely a fan. That is it.

**x x x x x x x x x x**

Chapter 8 

**x x x x x x x x x x **

Natalie woke up, slumped over her workbench, with a horrible cramping pain in her back and a little tiny newspaper stuck to her cheek. Since Ernie's murder, which is how Natalie saw his death, she was in a constant state of panic. Any little noise or knock at the door would send her heart rate through the roof. She surmised that if they could find Ernie, they could find her.

Eventually, they would know who she was, she would make sure of that, but it would be on **her** terms, not theirs. She had to make sure that they understood what happened was not her fault.

Natalie had to close all of the loose ends around her, to make sure her plan would work to her satisfaction.

There were only two other people left that had any real contact with her in Las Vegas. Her foster brother Trevor and Dr. Barbara Tillman.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

Dr. Tillman first met Natalie when she was a little girl and had first moved in with the Dell family. The Dells were concerned because she was having problems adjusting to her new surroundings. The Doctor saw Natalie as a very quiet, shy girl, but there was something else there, something that she was holding back. There was some quality in her eyes that always bothered, no, disturbed, Dr. Tillman. Looking into Natalie's eyes was a like watching the sky before a massive storm. Bright and sunny to dark and foreboding in what seems to be a split second. Without any real reason or warning, it was just nature.

Natalie was shoved from foster home to foster home and finally, The Dells made the decision to send her for help. It was a last resort for the Dell family to send Natalie to see Dr. Tillman, to make sure she wouldn't hurt any of the other children. On her first night at their home, she shoved another little girl off of the top bunk. The little girl's arm was broken. She had also done the same thing in other foster homes.

It only happened once, and according to Natalie, it wasn't her fault. If the girl weren't showing off, she never would have had to push her off of the bunk. She shouldn't been on Natalie's bunk anyway. When will people take responsibility for their own actions? It was beyond her how other people made assumptions.

When Natalie was a little girl, she didn't mind seeing Dr. Tillman. She actually sort of liked the woman. She was a little unconventional, a little odd, but she never seemed to judge Natalie or make her feel like she had done anything wrong. Maybe it was just the way that Natalie told Dr. Tillman her story, but it almost seemed like the woman felt sorry for her.

While Natalie did not want her pity, she did like the attention. She didn't really have a mother figure to speak of and Ernie's wife never really seemed to care for her. She was Ernie's special girl. No one else's. No one else cared about her. Maybe that was why she needed to be the center of attention.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

Shortly after completing her first miniature, Natalie had started to see Dr. Tillman again at Ernie's insistence. Ernie knew that she was having some troubles, he just wasn't sure how else to help her. He was the one that contacted Dr. Tillman, and even though she was semi-retired, she agreed to see Natalie, if for no other reason than to see how the little girl turned out.

But things were different this time. Natalie was an adult and could make the choice if she wanted to meet with the woman or not. Natalie was also more disturbed.

Natalie would see her in her condo, and the woman seemed more eccentric then ever before. While Natalie enjoyed talking to her, someone familiar, she did not share how she was actually feeling. How do you tell someone else that you have such a burning rage swirling inside of you that the only way to extinguish it is to murder another person? To kill the person that is causing you distress. It is the ultimate solution to an everyday problem.

The simple answer is you can't. And that was part of the problem. While Natalie knew what she was doing was in some sense wrong, she could rationalize every action. If x then y.

**x x x x x x x x x x **

Natalie was starting to get frustrated and agitated with her therapy sessions. After a few weeks, Natalie started to create another miniature. This time, the scene was of the Dr.'s condo. There were many details, stacks and shelves of books. A perfect project to immerse herself in. Natalie was getting tired of Tillman's psychobabble and her idiosyncrasies. She was tired of the Doctor not _listening _to her. Of underestimating her.

If their session rang long, Dr. Tillman would start her routine and make herself a pot of tea and a plate of cookies and settle in on the couch to take her nap, precisely at 4 o'clock, whether Natalie was still there or not. The first time that it happened, Natalie just sat there, unsure as to what to do. The second and third time, Natalie became angry. It was no longer about her. It was about _her_. That is what everything flowed back to.

Natalie had decided that she was done seeing Doctor Tillman. She wasn't feeling any better and the Doctor's eccentric behavior just stressed Natalie out all the more. She had to do something about Dr. Tillman. She knew her secrets. She knew about Ernie. If she knew, than what would stop the police from finding out?

And then it came to Natalie. Dr. Tillman would be the perfect message to send to Gil Grissom.

You. Were. Wrong.

And with her mind settled on a solution, Natalie went to see her foster brother Lionel about some equipment for her next project.

She was going to send Gil Grissom a gift.

**x x x x x x x x x x**

**Thanks for reading! If you like what you have read, please leave a review I would appreciate hearing your comments. Sorry about a bit of a cliffy. Just seemed like a good place to end.**


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